Kenzie’s lifeless eyes staring up at me from a pool of blood.
The flashback makes my blood run cold, and I shiver before shoving down the paralyzing guilt.
She will not die in vain. But if I want to bring down the Council, then I need them to lower their guard.
I tie off the ribbon at the base of my French braid. If Need wants me to look like a ball of fluff, then that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
By the time Leon strides back into the room (once again without knocking), I think I’ve done a decent job of looking the part.
Evidently, he disagrees. His eyes rake over me, scrutinizing every facet of my appearance, before settling on the ribbon. His nose wrinkles in obvious distaste.
He has a point. The ribbon would look much better if it were tied, very tightly, around his neck. The murderous thought grounds me as Leon yanks the offending bit of fabric. The ribbon falls to the ground, and my hair starts to come loose, effectively ruining my efforts at looking put together.
“I prefer your hair loose,” he notes, almost absentmindedly, as he starts winding the remains of my braid around his fist. “You will wear it as such.” He lifts my hair to his nose and takes a deep, shuddering inhale.
Goosebumps erupt down my spine.
No. Just no. Straight to jail.
I’d like to think things can’t get much worse, but of course, his focus shifts to my hand – the one that used to hold his engagement ring.
His jaw clenches, and it takes him less than two seconds to stride over to the wardrobe and retrieve the ring.
My stomach drops.
He cantrackit.
Still, Leon holds back his irritation as he pushes the ring onto my finger. “You cannot remove your ring. It’s for your protection. It’s a clear claim for all to see that you’re mine.”
He says it with that same condescending tone he seems to love, and the mental leash tugs.
I knew I should have flushed the damned ring.
Seemingly satisfied, Leon turns to the untouched tray of food on my bed and frowns. “I’ve insisted that the slaves prepare meals that will be familiar to your stomach. They have assured me that these are all staplesfrom your realm and adhere to the highest nutrition guidelines.” He looks at me expectantly.
“Uhm, thank you. I’m not very hungry, though,” I lie, since I have no intention of going anywhere near the bed while he’s in the room with me.
Leon’s eye twitches, and he takes another deep breath, as if it’s taking all of his effort to remain calm.
Do fantasy realms have anger management classes? I fear there may be a great need for them.
Finally, he manages to grind out, “Sit down, and eat. All of it.”
Immediately, the mental leash snaps, forcing me to take a seat beside the tray and start forcing food into my mouth.
“It is imperative that you keep up your nutrition, Vivian,” he instructs, and there’s an eerie gleam in his eyes as he watches me eat.
Something itches at the back of my mind, and I’m once again feeling paranoid over why he’s suddenly so invested in what I eat.
“There. That wasn’t so hard, was it? You will eat all meals given to you,” he notes with a dazzling smile when I finally clear my plate.
Again, the mental leash tugs. I guess we’re going to make force-feeding a habit. Still, I nod. I need to pick my battles. If Leon wants to watch me throw up from force-feeding, that’s ahimproblem. I’ll make sure my aim is on point.
Am I devolving as a person?
I haven’t even been conscious for a full day, and I’m already struggling to recognize who I’m becoming.Though I suppose if anything will strip you of your people-pleasing ways, it’s fighting for survival.
His chest puffs up when I don’t immediately fight him. “You are so unbelievably beautiful as a Creator. Your body is a temple, and I will see it cared for as such.”
